Fear Feeds The Beast Poem by Edwin Baldwin

The wolf man cometh hairy, dank, and musk;
he's the chill that enters your spine after dusk.

He is coming to get you on this full moon lit night,
he's waiting for you in the shadows, and out of sight.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, and to your surprise,
he will appear with a blank, cold, hard look, in his eyes.

With fangs, and claws at the ready for your premature demise;
our fear, is what the beast feeds on, that we'll come to realize.